


Bunker Hill

by ReleasingTheKrakenIsMyFetish



Series: Ree [48]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anger, Drama & Romance, F/M, Frustration, Implied Sexual Content, Long Shot, Love, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Romance, Talking, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:58:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReleasingTheKrakenIsMyFetish/pseuds/ReleasingTheKrakenIsMyFetish
Summary: It's been two weeks since the Gunners attacked and invaded Goodneighbor. Ree and Hancock are currently in Bunker Hill and waiting for Nick to return with news, but Hancock's patience is thinning out - fast. The 3rd long shot of Ree, Hancock and Valentine begins!





	Bunker Hill

Something woke me up. Maybe it was a bit of straw pricking my neck from the ascetic pillow, or maybe it was a distant howl of a wild mongrel. But when I slowly peered through the eyelids it was still dark – maybe just an hour or so before sunrise.

I faced a sight which had become unpleasantly familiar during the past two weeks. A bare back, scarred and partially missing skin here and there, once horribly corroded by radioactive drug. It belonged to a man who had been through so much, but had always survived. Who helped those who needed help, and... well, who hurt the ones needing to be hurt. John Hancock. The mayor of Goodneighbor. My first real love. For whom I had to wait for over 210 years, frozen and sleeping outside of time.

He was mumbling again. Bent forward, elbows leaning on his knees and head drooping he was whispering curses to the night. I could tell without looking that his hands were doing that thing again; curling his fingers to form hard fists, then relax before repeating. Sometimes he would let out a quiet, frustrated sigh until the rage boiling under his skin made his muscles tense up again.

The usual thing happened when I saw him like this. Something cold twisted itself around my heart and reminded me of the situation we were in – Goodneighbor was lost, invaded by the gunners for a reason we still didn't know. And there simply had to be a reason, because taking over such a big settlement should definitely have been a big risk for the gunners to take just for fun... Which made it clear that they had made a contract with someone. But who?

I desperately wanted to say or do something, anything, to make him feel better, but of course there wasn't such words or acts. But I could understand him a little – Goodneighbor had been his creation, his mark on the map, and a sanctuary for the outcasts and for those who didn't have any other place to go. The Gunners hadn't only destroyed all of that, but they had destroyed a big part of him. Or that's how it felt to me, at least.

Tonight we were staying at Bunker Hill, a fairly large settlement built around the memorial to the fallen soldiers and protected by a sturdy wall. Many of the survivors from Goodneighbor were also here, but some of them had scattered all around (Like Magnolia, who at the time of the attack had been performing at Dugout Inn), so it had made it difficult to gather up information of the casualties. Most of the fallen had been of the watchmen, guards of Goodneighbor. I had known them all, and it was still hard to comprehend that they were gone.

I could still hear Fahrenheit and MacCready, when they first told us what had happened. They had come to us to Starlight Drive-Inn, where they knew they would find Hancock, and delivered the news. I will probably never forget how John looked back then. First full of disbelief, then so filled with rage that I had feared he'd attack just about anyone right there and then.

Of course, it was a shock to all of us. The following days we spent scouting around, looking for survivors and trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Nick used his contacts to receive information and that proved to be succesful – from the reliable sources we gathered that a massive group of Gunners had soon attacked Goodneighbor after the three of us had left, and they were led by a man named Sergeant Baker.

To me the name didn't say anything, but Nick and John recognized him. With a darkened face Nick explained that Baker had been one of the Gunner leaders involved with the Quincy Massacre, of which even I had heard of. This only made it clearer that there was more to the whole thing.

Even though I know I can't make it any better, I reach out and touch his back. My fingertips meet bare skin, and he twitches and turns his head to look at me.

”Sorry, love. Did I wake you?”

His face smiles, but it's all just a thin veil over his anger and worry. It pains me.

”John, you should rest, too,” I murmur, and press my palm against him. ”I know that you don't need to sleep as much, but even ghouls have to rest _sometimes_.”

”Well, how can I when I know that asshole's sittin' on top of Goodneighbor,” he growls and turns to look away. ”I should be bashing his face in and slitting his throat open.”

”We will get Goodneighbor back,” I sat up, pushing some stubborn hairs behind my ear. ”But we still need a good plan. When Nick returns--”

”It was a waste of TIME!” Hancock suddenly explodes, and I quickly withdraw from him. He's never been like this, not to me. ”He's just gonna be back, telling us he has fuckin' nothing, and then we're all back to the square one. I need to get there NOW.”

”You know that would be a suicide,” I replied keeping my calm, not paying attention to the alarm sound my brain played on the full volume. ”We need to think--”

”Think!”

He crept on top of me so fast that I didn't have time to react otherwise, but to try and scramble back. But, of course I couldn't do that, because there was nothing but a wall behind me. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but despite knowing that my instinct to fight or flight took over – weird how powerful it is.

”Thinking does nothing! Thinking doesn't put that fucker on his knees!” Hancock barked. His face was just inches away from mine, but he was looking through me.

”John,” I called for him, trying to relax myself under him. Which was easier said than done, since every bit of my body wanted to squirm to be freed.

Saying his name shifted something in his eyes. He still wasn't looking at me, but he wasn't moving, either. His breaths were wheezing through the gritted teeth, and his face was almost distorted from the anger.

Carefully, I lifted my hand and touched his chin, then cheek, caressing his rough skin. I have no better words for it – it was like trying to tame an animal gone feral, to remind it of the human hand which had once cared for them. Slowly, slowly I saw the change. His muscles weren't so tense anymore. His breathing was getting steadier. Finally, I found his eyes, too. First they were confused, then it was like he really saw me for the first time in ages.

”Shit,” he breathed when the realization of the moment hit. Attempting to get up he started straightening himself, but I pulled him back to me.

”It's okay,” I did my best to hide how shaken I felt, since I didn't want to make it about me. It was him who needed the attention. ”It's okay.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and after a second of hesitation he then willingly buried his face against me.

”I'm sorry, Ree. I never meant... Shit.”

”I know. It's all right.”

”It's not. You're... the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. This ain't right, what I just did.”

”You didn't do anything. We're all in this together, and we all want to get our home back. I get that you're anxious, but... please. Rushing it doesn't do us any favors, and I need you alive.”

A moment of silence.

”Hunh. S' that right?” Hancock's tongue tasted my skin just under the earlobe. ”Need me... Or want me?”

”Both,” I replied softly.

His hands started wandering, pushing the covers off, feeling my ribs and waist. My heart started beating faster, and the certain kind of heaviness set in my crotch. But, before I'd let him continue, I took his face between my palms and made him look at me.

”Promise me we'll come up with a plan together. Promise me that you're not going back there alone.”

Hancock met my eyes without a single blink, and a trace of smile was showing itself on the corner of his mouth.

”Sunshine. I promise.”

His smile wasn't quite as reassuring as I had hoped, but I trusted him. He had promised, and he was a man of his word. Hancock grabbed my hair, and kissed me while slowly pulling my head back, until I had to completely surrender under him. When he brought his hips between my thighs I could tell that he was now fully awake.

”Love, I'm gonna make you come twice before dawn.”

Yep. A man of his word. And it was three times.

  
  


…

  
  


”Did you get any sleep? Careful, or I might start looking better than you.”

”Hardy-har,” I mumbled and sipped my coffee. Instant, of course – the real deal was even harder to find and even this one cup had cost me the price of a new pistol, but it was so worth it.

It was a late morning, and I was sitting at a local outdoor bar with Daisy, a ghoul woman wearing a three-piece suit. Hancock had gone with Fahrenheit to raid the surroundings and see if there would be any salvage or weapons to find, since we would need anything we could get once it was the time to grab arms.

”Seriously speaking,” Daisy leaned closer to me as we were sitting by the counter, ”what's the situation? Has Hancock figured out anything?”

Daisy, one of my dearest friends from the Goodneighbor. She had (or used to have) a shop there, Daisy's Discounts. Up until this point I had worked as her assistant, and she had became close to a mother figure to me. As a ghoul she was an eye-catcher of sorts, but very few knew that she was one of the pre-war ghouls. Meaning she had been alive before the bombs, and becoming a ghoul had preserved her for all this time.

”We're... still working on it. Nick should be back any moment now, and then we should be at least a bit wiser about Minutemen helping us.”

”Minutemen,” she scoffed and stumped her cigarette. ”Why would they even consider helping us, that's what I'd like to know.”

”Well, John's in a good terms with their general for one,” I glance at the road by the entrance of the settlement, but can't see the face I'm looking for. ”And why not? They've helped so many other settlements. Goodneighbor's no different.”

”We ain't actually the model citizens, either.”

”I don't think that's what matters. It's not just Goodneighbor we need to save, it's the Gunners needing to be put back in their place,” I repeated what Nick had told me. ”There's no knowing if they plan to invade more settlements, Goodneighbor being just the first step.”

”I really hope you're wrong,” Daisy pressed her lips together.

”Anythin' else to start up your day, darling?” A middle-aged man with a thinning hair but still bulky biceps addressed me from the other side of the counter.

”Such a sweet talker,” Daisy rolled her eyes, but the man kept his cool.

”Don't you worry, lovely. I'll serve you next. How about it, miss?”

”Thanks, I'm fine with this,” I lifted the cup, and finished the drink with few gulps.

As the man turned to Daisy, I kept looking at the road but Nick's usual getup didn't show itself between the wandering merchants and settlers. He had been gone for four days this time, and I missed him so much the sensation resembled like someone was gnawing a hole inside my chest.

It had been such a short time for us to really live up our true feelings, until the carpet had been pulled away from under our feet. Since the days we spent in Sanctuary we hadn't really had the time to be together, as he was our best contact to the Railroad as well as to the Minutemen.

I knew it was selfish to think such things around the times like these, but I couldn't silence the longing voice within me. Shaking my head, I turned back to Daisy.

”You need any help at the barracks today?”

”I'll take any help I can get. Speaking of which, my shift is starting soon.”

Daisy was now one of the volunteers at the barracks, which were these temporary shelters built along the outer side of the wall. In there were the ones that had suffered injuries when fleeing from Goodneighbor – luckily there wasn't many of them anymore, most of the injured were healed by now, but still around six watchmen and two civilians needed caring.

Focusing on the job we exchanged bandages, washed the wounds and gave meds to the patients. One of the watchmen had got it bad, with one shot wound just above his left knee, and one bullet had ripped a part of his cheek and throat away. He hadn't been a handsome man before, being a ghoul, but now he also missed a huge chunk of his face. Thanks to the Stimpaks and Med-X it didn't look quite as bad today, but when I touched him it was clear that he had a high fever. The wound on his knee had been infected.

”Shit. We need more Stimpaks,” Daisy looked over my shoulder. ”Go buy some, will you? Just tell them to add it to our bill. Hancock's gonna settle it later.”

”Sure,” I nodded, and stood up wiping my forehead. Even though it was almost fall the temperatures just stayed up high.

I found the trader's shack, and bought the Stimpaks. After I put them in a small bag I turned around, and my breath got stuck somewhere between my lungs and throat. It was Nick. Just walking through the gates, and when he saw me his eyes seemed to get brighter (well, truthfully they were always glowing, but you get what I mean).

Hastily walking towards him I had to restrain myself not to jump on him, since there were a lot of people from Goodneighbor around us and we weren't... ”officially” together. It would just cause unnecessary talking and I didn't want to bring that upon John, not now. He, as all of us, had too much on our plates already.

Nick watched me getting closer, and his usual lopsided smile made my heart jump with joy. Nick Valentine, a synth who had been planted with memories of a police detective who'd been alive before the war, was now a private detective in the post-apocalyptic world. But even though he was a synthetic man, he was very unique one. Not all plastic like Gen 2, but still not quite the all organic like Gen 3 synths. He was somewhere in the middle.

Like always, he wore his faded trench coat, and a badly worn fedora, which he tapped with his metallic hand as he held a packet of cigarettes with the other, human-like hand.

”Nick,” I spoke breathlessly. ”I'm so glad to see you!”

”You too, Ree,” he smiled, but the smile was weary. ”How's everything here?”

”Same, more or less. Trying to make the best of it. What about you? How did it go?”

Nick lit a cigarette, and pushed the pack with the lighter back to his pocket.

”Not to raise any hopes, but we might have got the help we need. The rest is up to John and what he'll decide to do.”

”But... That's great,” I exlaimed. ”We should find John and Fahrenheit, and have a meeting as soon as possible! I'll just drop these Stimpaks to Daisy and I'll help you find them.”

I clutched the bag in my hands, and Nick gave me a puzzled look.

”You okay?”

”I'm fine. It's just... been hard, keeping him here. John. He wants Goodneighbor back so badly. I worry that one morning I can't find him and he's gone up there by himself. He's tired of waiting. We all are, but... You know him.”

”But you also know he wouldn't do that to you.”

”Do I?” I looked up and met Nick's yellow eyes. ”He might love me, but Goodneighbor is his legacy.”

”Come on, now,” Nick reached my shoulder. ”You didn't see him when you were with the Institute. A complete wreck. He didn't want to lose you then and he certainly doesn't want to lose you this time, either.”

The same thing happened. I wanted to believe him, like I had wanted to believe John last night. But the unnerving feeling didn't want to be erased that easily.

”Yeah,” I sighed. ”Yeah, you're right. Just give me two minutes, and then we can go get them. They shouldn't have gone far from here.”

Nick's hand squeezed gently on my shoulder, with his thumb rubbing.

”I missed you.”

He let the words come out slowly and quietly, every word filled with warmth. I bite my cheek and mimic his smile, though I'd rather drop the bag and kiss him.

”Me too.”

I left Nick, and delivered the Stimpaks. On my way I couldn't stop myself contemplating what he had found out, and whether it would finally give us the means we needed.

 


End file.
